


The Vampire's Lips [Halloween Omens 2020]

by IneffableToreshi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dubious Consent, Dubious Consent Fantasy, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Sexual Roleplay, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27313684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: A vampire weasels his way into a particular bookshop, but is surprised when the owner proves to be more than a match for him.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 167
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	The Vampire's Lips [Halloween Omens 2020]

**Author's Note:**

> You all likely knew I wasn't going to let Halloween go by without some kind of sexy Good Omens short. :P Enjoy!
> 
> \---
> 
> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!

_ It was a dark and stormy night… _

“Oh how terribly cliche,” Aziraphale scoffed aloud to himself, though he was smiling. The bookseller stood at the front windows of his shop, gazing out at the dark, wet world beyond. The storm had been threatening all day, but had luckily held back while trick-or-treaters ran all over London. It had only begun in earnest a few minutes ago, now well into the night, and it was coming down eagerly. Rumbles of thunder and the occasional bolt of lightning danced through the sky above Soho.

It was actually rather romantic, Aziraphale thought. The perfect night to curl up with a good book, a steaming mug of cocoa, and a warm blanket. 

He was just heading toward the rear of the shop to enact this exact plan when a frantic hammering at the front door nearly made him leap out of his skin. 

“We are most definitely closed!” the bookseller called in the direction of the door. He waited a moment, listening to the sound of the rain hammering hard against every surface. He had almost convinced himself that the late-night visitor had gone, when the knocking came again, more insistent than before. 

Now, Aziraphale Fell was the type of shop owner who considered customers to be a rather annoying and unnecessary part of the process. He would very much have rathered to keep his shop closed at all hours of each day so that he could hole up and enjoy his personal store of literary treasures quite by himself. It was not unusual, therefore, for the angelic-looking man to flat-out ignore a knock on his door after hours. He didn’t want customers in his shop when he was  _ open _ , never mind at such a ridiculous time of night as this. 

However, the bookseller was also a kind man by nature, prone to mother-henning, and he soon found himself wondering about the person knocking so frantically on his shop’s door. Perhaps it wasn’t a customer at all, but someone who was hurt or in trouble. And if that were the case, well...he would have to be some kind of monster to simply turn his back and ignore it. 

So it was, with a bit of a sigh but also a bit of concern, that Aziraphale strode meaningfully toward the door of his shop and pulled it open in the midst of another barrage of knocks. 

Standing on the steps, fist still lifted to pummel the poor door, was a tall, thin figure enveloped in long black robes and a hood. Aziraphale could see very little of the person beneath their clothes, but the hand that was raised and the mouth that hung beneath the shadows of the hood were both worryingly pale. 

“Sick-” the figure coughed out in a wretched voice. “Hurt- Please…”

Aziraphale hardly needed to hear any more to know that this poor person was in desperate need of assistance. Though his book and blanket and cocoa awaited, he could not, in good conscience, leave the poor thing out wandering in the storm that was raging just past the shop’s awning. “My  _ goodness _ ! Do come in, come in my dear,” the bookseller insisted, ushering the figure forward. “This is no night to be out, especially if you are ill! Do you need me to call someone for you? Is it serious? Do you need an ambulance?”

The figure glided past the entrance with an almost disturbing gracefulness, and when he spoke again his voice sounded significantly less impared. “No, no, just need a few moments and something to drink, is all…” 

Aziraphale closed the shop’s door slowly, an eyebrow cocked in the direction of the stranger’s back. Despite his generally trusting nature, alarm bells were going off in the bookseller’s head. “Oh?” he prompted, strolling casually past the stranger to head toward the kitchen. “Water, perhaps? Or something a little stronger?”

There was a rustle of fabric that made Aziraphale stop mid-stride. A voice, perfectly healthy and dripping like melted chocolate, purred toward him: “Oh...something  _ much  _ stronger, I think…”

Aziraphale turned, slowly, and felt his eyes widen and the back of his neck flush. The stranger had shed his hooded cloak, and the being that lay beneath nearly mesmerized the bookseller. He was tall and quite thin, dressed all in black save for a thin, bright red scarf that hung casually around his neck, untied. Long waves of hair the exact color of the scarf fell like silk around his shoulders, and his eyes… Oh lord, those were surely the eyes of a creature of darkness, and yet they were the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever seen. Molten gold, swirling around black slit pupils…

“Who are you?” Aziraphale managed to ask as he stared. 

Both the question and the staring seemed to amuse the beautiful stranger, who grinned, showing off canine teeth that were far too long and sharp to be human. “Name’s Crowley,” he provided easily, and then added, “And  _ you _ are Aziraphale Fell.”

The confidence with which the stranger provided this information made a little shiver go down Aziraphale’s spine. “How do you know that?”

The stranger’s grin grew. He began to saunter casually in a wide circle around the bookseller, letting his fingertips run along shelf edges as he went. “Oh, I’ve been watching you for a while,” he purred as he walked. “I watch everyone, to be blunt, because how else would I be able to choose who will be my next victim?” Golden eyes shifted sideways, surreptitiously watching to see what Aziraphale’s reaction would be to this information, no doubt. “But I’ve been watching you  _ especially  _ closely, because there’s more that I want from you than a simple meal, you see…”

It had begun to click together, like pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he was building. Aziraphale had heard about the other attacks, of course, about the men and women who had been on the cusp of death and insisted upon recovery that they had been visited by the undead. 

“You’re a vampire,” the bookseller whispered, almost to himself. 

Crowley’s grin was equal parts radiant and terrifying. “Smart one, you are. Should’ve expected as much, surrounded by all these books.”

Aziraphale had been carefully moving backwards, keeping his distance from the demonic creature, but also shepherding him toward a certain shelf, slowly, oh so slowly… He wasn’t expecting Crowley to turn suddenly, rush forward with inhuman speed and strength, and shove him bodily against a bookshelf, making the wood groan in protest. 

“Then I suppose there’s no need to go into details,” the vampire hissed, baring his fangs as his long fingers all but crushed Aziraphale’s shoulders. A long, thin tongue like a snake’s flicked out and teased across the bookseller’s jaw, eliciting a shudder. “Don’t worry, my little cherubic beauty. It will be good for you too, you have my word.” With that he struck hard and fast, fangs sinking deep into the flesh of Aziraphale’s throat…

* * *

Aziraphale was...laughing. 

Though he was practically starving - in more ways than one - this unusual turn of events gave the vampire called Crowley pause. He pulled back, licking the blood from his lips as he went, and stared at his prey with both eyebrows raised. The bookseller was dissolving in mirthful giggles, as though he’d just had a dirty joke whispered to him in church. 

Crowley could hear the amusement in his own voice when he spoke, thought he was attempting something closer to a fierceness. “Can’t rightly recall ever being  _ laughed  _ at while feeding before,” he announced. 

Aziraphale bit his lip and managed to stifle another fit as he met the vampire’s eyes. “Apologies if I’ve put you off your meal,” he all but snickered. “I just find it rather amusing that of all the prospective blood donors in London, you decided to come into  _ my  _ shop.”

Crowley could hardly be blamed for his curiosity. “And what precisely is so funny about th-”

He’d very nearly gotten the question out when Aziraphale’s hands rose, steady and sure and quite quick, and something heavy and metal snapped ominously closed around the vampire’s wrists. Crowley immediately released the bookseller’s shoulders, though it was not entirely voluntary. The moment the bands - iron, he thought - were upon him he felt himself grow as weak as an ordinary human. Weaker, actually, he realized as his thin legs wobbled beneath him. He had to fight to lift the shackles up to examine them, and found that they not only bound his wrists together, but were also connected by a heavy chain. He moved so slow and took so long to comprehend this detail, that before he had even realized it was happening Aziraphale had ducked away from the bookshelf, yanked hard on the chain, and secured it on a metal eyelet drilled into the floor just behind the shelf. 

“What in Hell’s name-?” the vampire began, gaping down at his own, suddenly rather heavy - arms. 

“Heaven’s name, actually,” Aziraphale answered cheerfully. Once he’d ensured the vampire was quite well bound, he’d returned to face his attacker with a broad smile and his hands clasped behind his back. “I’m a bit of a collector, you see,” he explained. “Not just of books, but of holy items and artifacts. These shackles are blessed, so you shan't be escaping, I assure you.”

Crowley’s eyes had gone quite wide. He stared, gaze moving from the bookseller to his chains, and back again several times.  _ Shit _ . “Looks like you got me,” he chuckled lightly, doing his best to look undisturbed by his current predicament. “The real question is what you’re going to do with me.”

_ That _ made a frown flicker onto Aziraphale’s face, which told Crowley that he had a chance if he dealt with this carefully. “You could obviously dispose of me,” the vampire dared to say aloud, “but that’s not really your kind of thing, is it? Killing?”

Aziraphale’s mouth twitched at this and he was suddenly refusing to look at Crowley. A good sign. 

“We could make a deal instead,” the vampire suggested, smiling his most tempting smile. “A trade, as it were. My continued existence in exchange for…” He leaned in close, careful not to let his chains rattle, and settled his captor with what he hoped was an intriguing smile. 

For a moment the quiet, thoughtful look in Aziraphale’s eye made Crowley certain he’d properly charmed the bookseller into making a deal. Then a delicate eyebrow raised and the vampire’s captor asked, “What was the ‘more’?”

Crowley blinked, frowning, genuinely confused. “Pardon?”

Aziraphale tilted his head, a tiny smile teasing at his lips. “You said that you wanted ‘more’ from me than simply a meal,” he clarified. “So what was the ‘more’?”

Despite himself, the vampire faltered. He wasn’t generally in the position of having to explain these sorts of things, after all, and he’d been watching this particularly delicious bit of prey for quite some time… 

Something must have shown on his face, because now Aziraphale was smirking, and he chuckled a bit while saying, “Hmm, yes, I thought so.” 

The next thing he knew, his captor had approached, crowding him up against the bookshelf he’d previously slammed the bookseller against. In his weakened state Crowley found himself actually cowering away, an incredibly uncomfortable and embarrassing situation for the vampire. 

Aziraphale leaned in close, lifted a hand, and pressed soft fingers around Crowley’s chin to hold the vampire’s head still. He seemed to be contemplating something, and judging by the dark look in his eyes it was something less than innocent. “Perhaps…” said the captor in a low, rough voice. “Perhaps I should do to you what  _ you _ were planning to do to  _ me _ …”

Crowley’s eyes widened, his surprise exceeded only by the arousal that was warming up his spine. “N-ngk- W-what?” he stammered. 

Moving slowly and deliberately, Aziraphale reached toward his own throat, running two fingers through the strip of blood that still oozed there. With his own tongue running along the edge of his teeth, he pressed the wet fingers against Crowley’s trembling lips. The vampire shuddered a little at the warm scent of the blood. He couldn’t stop himself opening his lips to allow Aziraphale’s fingers to push inside, nor could he stop the moan that fell from him at the taste. 

Crowley’s eyelids fluttered closed. Moving almost involuntarily, he sucked on the fingers in his mouth, swallowing the taste of blood quickly and moving on to lave the warm flesh with his tongue. A sharp breath from Aziraphale had him reopening his eyes to meet with blue ones that had darkened with arousal. 

“Oh yes…” Aziraphale sighed, retrieving his fingers and running them down along Crowley’s Adam’s apple. “I think that will do nicely, my dear…” The grin quirked at the corners of his lips again. “A deal, yes… Do as I say, my vampire dear, and I shall let you live, yes?”

His tone broached no argument, but Crowley knew he would have agreed either way. There was something about this one, this Aziraphale. There was some kind of dark desire hiding beneath the apparent innocence of him. And while he really had been keen to drink his fill and then pleasure the beautiful man until he lost consciousness, there was something incredibly intriguing about flipping the tables, losing the power, and being-

_ Oh-! _

Aziraphale had wrapped a loop of chain around his hand and yanked down, effectively sending the vampire to his knees. Crowley looked up at his captor with wide eyes that he was certain had blown mostly black. He hadn’t been expecting the show of strength - more strength, he thought, than an average human should possess. It was...doing things for him. His stylishly tight trousers suddenly felt far too constricting. 

“I’m not used to being on this side of things,” the vampire drawled with a smirk to try to hide how affected he was. “So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not spot-on with my delivery.” Then he cleared his throat theatrically and asked, in a chocolatey purr, “What would you have me do, my master?”

He’d expected Aziraphale to blush or gasp or otherwise be scandalized, but he was sorely mistaken. Instead, the unassuming bookseller let a slow, sly grin slide across his face and reached down with his free hand to unbutton and unzip his trousers. Without even the tiniest show of shame or embarrassment he raised an eyebrow at the vampire on his knees beneath him. “Well? Go ahead then. Prove to me that you’re worth keeping alive.”

_ Fuck… _ Crowley’s cock throbbed with interest at the blatant confidence. He had to reign himself in a little in order to not simply pounce on Aziraphale. With supreme effort, he managed to crawl the last few inches forward, eyes locked on the bulge straining against his captor’s trousers. He reached out with both hands, shimmying the bookseller’s trousers and pants down his thick thighs until a positively delicious-looking cock sprang free. 

Just as Crowley was licking his lips and leaning forward, Aziraphale gave a little jerk on his chains. The vampire looked up to find his captor staring down at him with a warning in his eyes. “Keep those fangs to yourself if you know what’s good for you,” he said in a husky voice.

Unable to resist a bit of mischief, Crowley purposely pulled his lower lip back and bit down just a little. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, but that twitch of a smile was back. 

Slowly, savoring the moment, Crowley wrapped his lips around the head of that lovely cock and let a soft moan bubble up from his throat. It was almost immediately echoed by a lower moan from the man above him. The sound spurred him on. If Aziraphale wanted a reason to keep him alive, by Satan, Crowley would give him one. 

He took his captor to the very back of his throat, mentally grinning at the choked sounds of pleasure he received in response. Moving with deliberate slowness, the vampire drew all the way back before sinking back down, adding pressure and moisture with his tongue while his fingers dug deep into the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s thighs. He’d barely begun when the chain that bound him fell to the floor so that two greedy hands could weave up into his red waves and fist there. The sharp pain to his scalp sent prickles of arousal shooting up and down the vampire’s spine. He groaned around the hardness in his mouth, the sound echoing back to him from above his head. 

Oh, how shameful for a powerful creature of the night to act in such a manner...but Crowley couldn’t resist reaching back and giving one of Aziraphale’s hands a squeeze, silently telling him to  _ take _ what he wanted. Hardly any encouragement was required; within a few heartbeats the beautiful blond was clutching the vampire’s hair tight and thrusting with abandon. He was fucking Crowley’s mouth and throat and the vampire couldn’t stop moaning, the loss of control was so strangely and utterly  _ fucking fantastic _ .

“Oh lord-” came strangled gasps from above. “Oh fuck, yes, that’s- Uhn-!” 

Crowley drank greedily. Though it wasn’t the blood he’d originally desired, he licked and sucked and swallowed, careful not to lose a single drop of his captor’s delicious spend. Feeling just a tad pathetic as he did it, he let out a small whimper when it seemed to be over. He carefully pulled back and let Aziraphale’s cock slide from his lips, golden eyes gazing upward in search of affirmation, though he hardly required it.

Surprising the vampire once again, the bookseller was looking back at him with fire in his eyes. His chest heaved as he came down from his high, but the look on his face suggested he was hardly sated. 

“More, master?” Crowley teased as he slid a thumb across his spit-slicked lips. “Do I have a hedonist on my hands?” 

With a flash of his eyes and absolutely no warning, Aziraphale snatched up the chain with both hands and pulled back hard. Crowley yelped in surprise as he was knocked to the floor on his back. Aziraphale gave another yank; Crowley’s arms flew up over his head as the chain tightened. 

“Hey, what the-?!” he shouted, but snapped his jaws shut when Aziraphale fell to the floor over him. The blond moved like a beast trying to rip through its catch. Fingers moved with little care for the vampire’s stylish clothing, ripping trousers and pants off in a single motion and tearing his shirt to shreds to reveal the flat plains of his chest and stomach. Aziraphale’s eyes were practically glowing as he threw Crowley’s legs up over his shoulders as if they were nothing at all. 

“S-shit, what is happening?” Crowley laughed, a little nervously, though his desperate arousal was quite evident, leaking against his stomach. 

“I should think that is quite obvious,” Aziraphale growled and, without further hesitation, hiked Crowley’s hips up and dove down. 

The vampire tried his best but failed to stifle a squeak and a squeal as a warm, firm tongue pressed against the tight ring of muscle and  _ pushed _ , laving, licking, stroking, demanding entrance. The sounds of surprise quickly melted into ones of pleasure and need. Crowley’s fingers scrabbled against the floor and his shackles, unable to lower his arms, unable to find any purchase with which to ground himself. 

“F- _ fuck _ !” he shouted, then let out a truly mortifying groan as one of Aziraphale’s fingers joined his tongue. “ _ Fuck _ , Aziraphale! That’s-! T-that’s-!” A second finger joined the first and crooked against a bundle of nerves, dragging a sharp sound of pleasure from Crowley’s throat and causing his back to bow in response. “S-shit, I-! Oh  _ Satan _ , just  _ fuck  _ me already!”

Something like a chuckle came from Aziraphale, and suddenly Crowley was bereft of sensation, whimpering and wriggling, seeking it out again. “That  _ was _ the idea, my dear,” he smirked, a hungry look in his eyes, “but I’m not sure I like the way you expressed your request.” He raised a tormenting eyebrow.

Crowley groaned and whined and wriggled like a spoiled child, well and truly done with this particular game, his cock throbbing almost painfully. “ _ Please _ ,” he bit out with what was most certainly not a whimper. “I am literally begging you, before I spontaneously combust, Aziraphale,  _ please fuck me already _ .”

Aziraphale’s answering grin was far too devilish for the likes of the angelic blond, and it sent sparks of lightning all through Crowley’s body. “That’s much better, darling,” he purred. 

A thick, slick hardness, somehow miraculously ready and well-prepared, lined up against Crowley’s waiting arse and pressed with intention. There was a brief moment - barely a heartbeat - during which the muscle protested, and then he was breached, and his head slammed back against the floor at the perfection of it. 

Aziraphale began slow, but it was clear from the look in his eyes that he had no intention of maintaining that particular pace. He leaned down over the vampire as he pressed forward, bottoming out and biting his lip as he bent Crowley nearly in two. As they locked eyes, Aziraphale leaned his head to one side and flicked out his chin, indicating the meat of his throat. “Just as I’m cresting the edge, and not a moment sooner, understand?”

Crowley nodded enthusiastically, eyes wide. “Yes, yes, I understand,” he babbled as he wriggled his hips, desperate for movement. “Just please,  _ please _ , harder! Faster!”

Aziraphale did not disappoint. He began to thrust in earnest, driving into Crowley without mercy. He tilted his hips at the perfect angle and soon had Crowley  _ screaming _ . 

The sounds echoing through the bookshop soon overcame the sounds of the storm raging outside it. 

Crowley didn’t think he had ever been so steeped in pleasure in all his long life, but he needed more, just a little bit more, and-

Aziraphale leaned in close to the vampire’s ear and whispered, “ _ Come _ for your master, love…”

He did, and with such sudden force that he nearly whited out as he came hot and fast all over his own body. He clenched tight around Aziraphale’s cock, oversensitive muscles sizzling and sparking. In the moments of intensity Crowley yanked hard, snapping the chain between his shackles, sending bits of metal links skittering across the bookshop floor. 

Aziraphale made a desperate noise, and even in the aftershocks of his own pleasure, Crowley lunged forward, snapping his jaws around his lover’s throat and biting down  _ hard _ . The result was immediate and explosive. A wonderful growl of pleasure ripped its way out of Aziraphale as he thrust one final time and came hard, pulsing deep into Crowley’s body again and again until he had nothing left to give and collapsed in satiated exhaustion. 

For several long minutes the only sound inside the shop was deep breathing and the occasional little groan of happiness. 

Crowley stretched his arms out to the sides, arching his back a little, before lifting a hand to brush a sweat-soaked blond curl out of Aziraphale’s eyes. “That wasn’t at  _ all _ what I was expecting when you asked for a vampire,” he said with a smirk. 

Aziraphale chuckled as he carefully withdrew and shifted to allow Crowley to lower his legs. “Yes, well, I must admit that it wasn’t exactly what I was intending either,” he admitted, “but when it began I just felt...inspired...and you didn’t safeword out, so I assume you were okay with my improvisations?”

Crowley chewed on his tongue to try to hide his grin, but it was all but impossible. “I think I can forgive your going off script this time,” he allowed. “But we’re definitely doing this threatening, horny monster thing again.” His cheeks burned as possibilities began to run through his filthy mind. “I’m thinking you would make a very convincing werewolf.”

Aziraphale snorted and tried to look offended by the notion, but Crowley knew better than to believe it for a second. 

“Happy Halloween, angel,” the demon sighed happily.

Aziraphale’s eyes shined back with adoration. “Happy Halloween, my foul fiend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Lovely readers; if you enjoy my fan-fiction and want to see more of what I do, you can check out my author blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com, where you'll find links to my social media, my original work, and more. Check it out and feel free to say hello!


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